Chapter Text
You know, Arthur wasn't actually that bad.
Wait, scratch that, Alfred thought Arthur could be an insufferable prick with a hugenormous ego who cooked terribly but was wicked good at potions. (Did that even make sense? cooking and potion making were the same process...). But Alfred was sure, somewhere under that prickly exterior that Arthur called his body, there was a nice, lovable guy.
Alfred had only recently begun his quest to befriend the British boy and find that lovable interior. Before this year, their 6th year, they had been near enemies. In rival houses, one being American and the other British, Alfred’s general asshole tendencies and Arthur’s jerk-offish attitude- they just didn't work well together. In their first year in fact, they declared their rivalry to be official, but that was a long time ago.
Lets fast forward to the present, shall we?
"Dick head!" Alfred spat, trying to come up with rapid-fire insults to sling at the blond glaring him down.
"Wanker!" Arthur retorted, green eyes narrowing.
"For heavens sake, tais toi!" Francis cried, exasperated at the two's constant bickering. Having lunch in the great hall was absolute hell when they started fighting.
Oh, was that mentioned?
Befriending your once enemy was quite... difficult.
"It's this limey's fault!" Alfred said, crossing his arms defensively.
"You git! You were the one that said my cooking would be as awful as the draught of living death!" Arthur exclaimed.
"Mes amis, sils vous plaît! Could you try not to argue every second of the day?" Words they'd heard before, but it never solved anything. They glared at each other, staying quiet.
Since when did Alfred think it would be okay to have Gryffindors sitting with Slytherins in any case? It was a habit he'd picked up about two weeks ago, and since then he'd gotten dirty looks from both houses. The American looked like he didn't really care. Arthur, on the other hand, did mind. A lot.
The Brit grumbled under his breath and got up. "I'm not hungry anyway." He walked down the aisle to exit the great hall.
"Where is he going?" Alfred muttered, not actually wanting to know the answer, just sighing of irritation.
"Seriously, Alfred, why do you insist on sitting with us over here?" Francis sighed. He rubbed one slender finger across his eyebrow, something he had been doing with the increasing agitation over the past two weeks.
"I just want to..." Alfred sighed, slumping over. He glared at the table. "I just wanna be friends with him. Why do I need an enemy anyway?"
"Yeah, why do you?" Francis said. "Ever since you started sitting here, you've only made a bunch of enemies, yes? What’s the point."
Alfred rolled the answer around on his tongue, but doesn't say it.
I want to ask Arthur to the ball.
"No reason. I’m going to go practice." Alfred shoved away from the table, not sure if he really was going to go and fly around for quidditch practice.
Alfred left Francis, a slight scowl on his face. Quidditch would probably take his mind off things, but he really wanted to know where Arthur had gone. He faintly remembered inviting the emerald-eyed Slytherin to watch him at practice today. There was no chance of that now.
"Alfred, are you going to practice today?" Alfred turned to see Matthew, fellow Gryffindor and keeper for the quidditch team, coming up behind him.
"I don't know, Mattie. I'm not really feeling it today, ya know?"
"Well, I think we're learning some new strategies, so even if you can't be there the whole time, you should stay for a bit." The Canadian looked at him hopefully. Alfred was one of the few people who acknowledged the quiet blond at Hogwarts, and the only one on the team. It wouldn't hurt to stay too long, Alfred supposed, just to give Matthew some company.
"I guess I could go..."
"Hey, what’s on your mind? You're usually so excited about practicing." Matthews’s eyebrows drew together behind the fringe of his bangs.
Alfred laughed half-heartedly and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess to sum it up, relationship troubles."
"Platonic or otherwise?" Matthew inquired innocently.
Alfred laughed, his ears turning pink. "Both."
"Come to practice. It’ll get your mind off of your relationship troubles." A dimpled grin from Matthew, and Alfred gave in.
"Alright. Just let me get my broom." Alfred smiled and walked in the opposite direction from Matthew, back to his dorm. Hopefully his broom was in his dorm... for something being so important to Alfred, he sure misplaced it a lot.
The American reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, called out the password (galleon), and entered the common room. Only a few students were here, most of the house was enjoying the sunshine, they didn't see it too often while in Scotland. He reached his room and, opening the door, saw his area. It was a mess.
"Oops..." he rummaged through clothes, papers, and other items. Of course his broom had to be at the way bottom, but he'd found it! He ran out of the room and rushed out to the playing fields for quidditch practice, startling more than a few passing students, teachers, and even some ghosts.
"Ta-daa! I'm here!!" He announced, breaking through the group of huddled Gryffindors.
Half the team hardly even looked up at Alfred as he approached, they were so used to his tardiness.
"Oh good, you came." Matthew said softly. Alfred nodded, and tuned into the directions currently being given.
It wasn’t really anything Alfred hadn't already known... and soon he was off, slicing into the crisp afternoon air. They didn’t have the snitch out just yet, but Alfred had to keep guard anyway.
Alfred soared high up away from the rest of the team, and stayed there, gazing out over the field. He swung his legs gently.
Wait, in the stands.. Was that? No, it couldn’t be. Arthur? Who else would stand out like a sore thumb among the dark clothes and scarves with his blond hair and green scarf? Alfred’s heart skipped a beat. It was him!
Distracted by the Brit, Alfred didn't notice the snitch had gone right past him.
"Alfred, focus!" One of the beaters called out.
"Huh? Oh, right!" The American pulled himself out of his stupor and raced off. For a moment he wondered if he'd looked cool for Arthur, but he reminded himself, he was a hero! No way he wasn't cool! He sped after the snitch, dodging players expertly, and it didn't take too long before he caught it. It would've been awesome if he'd stayed on the broom. He slipped, and with a moment of panic, grasped for his broom. He barely caught it with one hand, and swung in open air with nothing but the wind to break his fall if he were to lose his grip.
Gritting his teeth, Alfred swung himself back onto the broom with the ease of someone who fell off his broom often. (He did.) He tried to calm his racing heart, snitch held in a death grip in his other hand, its wings beating at his knuckles and thumb. Dammit! He has to stop falling. It wasn't very heroic!
Alfred carefully piloted back to the ground where his team was gathering. He handed the snitch back to Matthew, who held it for the next round.
"What’s your problem Jones, why you messin' up?" one player, Antonio growled crossly. Alfred wasn’t listening though. His eyes were scanning the stands for Arthur.
Arthur was still there. Alfred smiled. Even from that far away, Alfred could see a smirk (he had to squint to see that) and then Arthur was pointing at Alfred? No, behind him...
THWACK.
Antonio had smacked Alfred in the back of the head, his glove making a loud noise at contact. "Prestas atención! Keep your focus here, Alfred! You can chat with your lover later." Antonio said angrily. Alfred pouted, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head.
"He’s not my lover..." Alfred mumbled.
"Right," Antonio scoffed, turning his attention back to the team. Alfred snuck a small glance over to Arthur, who seemed to be laughing.
"Alfred," Matthew nudged the American, getting him to pay attention. A few more rules were added, and they went back to playing. Alfred rose up high in the air to wait for the start of the next round. He could still see Arthur, who was barely recognizable, and waved. The Brit waved back, and the whistle started the round.
This time, the beaters were meant to aim the bludgers at the players, as the opposing team would in a real game. Alfred maintained his focus and navigated around the field, looking for the little gold orb he had to catch. Matthias, a Gryffindor who'd moved from Denmark, beat a bludger over to him, which Alfred had barely avoided. Matthias grinned.
"Doing all right there, Alfie?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Alfred huffed.
Matthias smirked. "Keep your eye out, jones, don’t want to get hit, would you?" Alfred glared after the large beater as Matthias flew away, laughing. Alfred had to focus, enough of Arthur. Arthur was swell and all, but Alfred wouldn’t be very impressive if he had cracked his brains out on a rogue bludger.
"Its on, Matthias." Alfred growled to himself. This was his game, his field, he was the most important person there, and he was about to show it.
Alfred won, of course. Bruised, battered and admittedly a bit bloody, Alfred felt great. His hair was intensely ruffled by the high speeds of flying around.
"What was that about getting hit, Matthias?" Alfred smirked, pushing his goggles back up his nose. Matthias grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth.
"It was all part of the plan, Jones! You did better when you weren’t focusing on your lover over there, although I did get a few hits in." Matthias pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to the stands where Arthur was making his way down back to ground level. Other people who were watching practice were already mingling with the Gryffindor players.
"I already said, he’s not my lover!" Alfred blushed.
"Uh-huh." Matthias grinned, ruffling Alfred’s hair as he headed back to the other group.
"Hey, Alfred what are you blushin' about?" An accented voice echoes from behind Alfred.
"Oh, Arthur! Hi!" Alfred said, maybe a bit too loudly.
Arthur cringed at how loud he was. "Hello. Are you willing to answer me?"
"Nah, man, it's nothing. That's not important. I was surprised you actually came, since ya stormed off," Alfred said, steering them away from the subject.
"You invited me, git. Besides, it isn't like I had anything else to do." The Brit crossed his arms.
"Well, did you like what you saw?" Alfred asked, grinning.
Arthur smirked again, lips twisted in a way that told Alfred he was in for a surprise.
"Seeing as you lost your focus more than once, almost fell from your broom, and got in trouble with that idiot Spaniard, it left a lot to be desired." With those words, Alfred's ego deflated. Arthur looked at him with an amused face. "Still, you have some talent, you're fast, and you looked like you were having a good time." Alfred smiled.
"Well, I have to be good if I want to kick Slytherin ass at the next game! Which, by the way, shouldn't be too hard," he said cockily.
"I'd like to remind you of our own seeker, Ivan." Arthur said, a single thick eyebrow raised. Alfred groaned, half laughing.
"Ivan is the worst seeker! He’s too large and blocky to fly seeker." Alfred argued. "Not to brag but, I’m the best seeker."
"Don’t get cocky, Alfred." Arthur shook his head.
"Obviously, you haven’t flown before. Being seeker... it’s amazing. I feel like nothing can stop me." A strange light entered Alfred’s eyes; one that Arthur saw only when Alfred was talking about quidditch.
"Well, with an ego like yours..."
"I’m taking you flying." Alfred decided. "You’re missing out!" If Alfred took him up, not only would they enjoy themselves, it would give Alfred a chance to try and befriend the blond.
"No, no, that’s okay-" Arthur quickly said, raising his hands up in a defensive position.
"For real, Arthur, you gotta. You can ride my broom!" He lifted his prized broom up, the sleek wood shining in the sunlight.
"No!"
"Why not?" Alfred pouted, the hand holding the broom sagging a bit.
"I’m..." Arthur muttered something.
"What?"
"I’m afraid of flying." Arthur admitted sheepishly. His green eyes focused on the ground. "And I don’t like heights."
"Seriously?!" Well, that was something new. Arthur looked like he wasn't ever scared of anything, to be honest. But if Alfred didn't take them too high up, maybe it could work... "We don't have to go too high up, I'll show you later," the American promised. Arthur seemed like he was about to argue, but bit his lip, deciding against it.
"Fine. Now can we get out of the sun? It's a bit too bright for my taste."
Alfred shook his head in mock disappointment. "Dude, ya gotta get out more!"
"Maybe later," the Brit said. "Right now the sun is burning the skin off my nose." He walked side-by-side with Alfred into a shaded area of the school. "Did you finish the potions homework?"
There had been homework?
"That’s what I thought..." Arthur smirked, looking at the expression on Alfred’s face. "Smooth move there, Alfred."
"Shit, bro, you gotta help me!"
"Why should I help you?" The thought of helping a rival house, let alone Alfred, wasn’t something Arthur planned on doing anytime soon.
"Well, I know you’re super duper great at potions, and I really could use some help! I don’t actually want to fail my classes, you know. Besides, if I fail my classes, I’ll get kicked out of quidditch!"
Alfred was sure in hysterics about this. There was only one thing to do.
"What’s in it for me?" Arthur inquired.
"What?! Bro, you gotta be kidding me!" At Arthur's unwavering stare, Alfred sighed. "Okay, how about . . . I help you with a class you aren't good at?"
"Are there any classes you're good at?" Ouch.
"Well, then. How about we go to Hogsmeade and I buy you something. Anything you want!"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
"Yeah! We'll spend the day there or whatever!"
"You make it sound like it's a date." Alfred blushed scarlet. Way to go, hero.
"N-no it doesn't, not really." Although it sounds like fun . . . "Look, is it a deal or not?" Alfred looked into Arthur's eyes with a pleading expression.
Arthur held off on answering as long as he can before he sighed. "Sure. Okay, whatever."
"Thank you!!" Alfred cried, scooping Arthur into a big hug.
"Good god- Alfred!" Arthur squirmed, breaking away from Alfred’s strong arms. Not that he noticed or anything. Arthur brushed some imaginary dust from his sweater and glared at Alfred from under his bangs.
"Heh, sorry." Alfred’s sun freckles blended into his skin as he blushed.
Arthur just sighed and continued walking along side the school, Alfred right next to him. "When we go to Hogsmeade, be prepared to buy me a lot of things..."
The truth was Arthur had yet to go to Hogsmeade. The first year, his mother didn’t sign it in time, the second he was sick, the third he was busy studying... and so on and so forth. He had heard the stories, but he had managed to miss it all three years before; not like his housemates ever let him forget it.
Going to Hogsmeade would be great! And if Alfred was willing to go with him and buy him a few things, who was he to reject that offer? Besides, it might just crush little Alfred’s heart if he didn’t go. Arthur glanced at Alfred as they walked along. There was a sort of jaunty-ness to Alfred that only few people naturally had, and Arthur thought it was interesting, if not amusing.
"Not too many things, okay bro? I mean, money doesn’t grow on trees..." Alfred said. "I wish I could buy you all the things you want, but I gotta pay for repairs on my broom too..."
"If you love your broom so much, why don’t you marry it?" Arthur teased. Sure, it was a childish jest, but Arthur couldn’t resist.
"Well, to start, its not allowed, I’ve already checked. Second, there’s someone else I’d rather be with than my broom, thank you very much."
Arthur had to stop and think for a moment to just process that sentence. But then... who was that someone?
For some reason, those words intrigued Arthur. And left an almost bitter taste in his mouth when he realized the American could like anyone within reason. It wasn't like he actually cared, of course, it'd just be an interesting thing to know!
"Artie, are you alright? You look kinda flustered." Alfred had stopped and was looking at Arthur with a worried expression.
"I-it's nothing you need to concern yourself with, and don't call me Artie!" The green-eyed Slytherin snapped.
Alfred raised his hands defensively. "Alright, sorry! Geez...I thought it was cute." He pouted. What a moron, Arthur thought, rolling his eyes. It was a wonder the Gryffindor functioned at all.
"So, in order to complete the potion, you need five mandrake leaves."
"That's it?" Alfred and Arthur were slowly making progress on the potions homework. If he'd been doing his own work, Arthur would've finished in about five minutes, but they'd been in the library for about an hour now. If this went on any longer they'd miss dinner.
"Yes. There's only one left, see if you can do it on your own." Arthur reclined in his chair, closing his eyes in a relaxed manner. Alfred glanced down at the last problem. His muggle cousins had had homework like this sometimes, something they called "chemistry". He hadn't understood that either.
"Ingredients for a love potion....
"A love potion?" Arthur asked, confused. Had that been on his homework? Must have been. He sits forward and tries to read the parchment.
"What does a love potion do?" Alfred inquired with a surprising amount of interest.
"Well, it temporarily causes the drinker to become infatuated with the person who brewed it."
"Oh. That’s hard core shit." Alfred snickered. "Here it says to just list the ingredients, and how to brew it, but will we make this in class?"
"Uh, I’m not sure, actually." Arthur admitted. He could make it no problem, he would have to utilize the abandoned bathroom... but why would he need it?
Alfred quickly jotted down the answer- the first quick thing he’d done all night- and started to pack things up. "Oh, damn, what time is it? Are we gonna miss dinner?"
"No, Alfred." Arthur reassured him, packing up also, putting his lone book into his bag. "C'mon, let's go to dinner together."
"Alright. Thanks, and sorry again for making you help me."
Arthur snorted. "You're paying me back, don't forget." He slung his bag over his shoulder and stood. Alfred's papers were scattered everywhere, and the American hurried to shove it all in his own pack. Rolling his eyes, Arthur helped Alfred pack up. He came across a little cloth bag and picked it up, tossing it in the air a couple times. Alfred noticed, taking it from him with a barely audible gasp.
"What was that?" Arthur asked once Alfred put it away.
"Just...something." Alfred said hurriedly. "Okay, I'm ready to go."
Arthur gave a little nod, not entirely satisfied with his answer, but they exited the library without another word.